This is an excerpt from a novel I started writing for NaNoWriMo (National November Writing Month.) It is NOT a finished product. Tentatively called Heavenly Helpers, it’s a story about how angels help all of us in different ways. Tirza is one of seven angels that I’ve written about. This story is great for this time of year, and also has significance in my own family.
“I have no one left to send on this mission,” Liam stated to his second. “Everyone has an assignment. Would you please assist me?”
“Of course,” Tirza answered, her red light brightening at the thought of activity instead of sitting in Liam’s office, shadowing his moves. She could sense the disenchantment of the other angel who’d been doing the same job for eons. Yet she knew that they both were waiting for The Creator to decide on a change of management.
“What is it you wish me to do?”
“Please go to Sandy’s side,” he said and then telepathically sent her details. Smiling, he told her, “You will enjoy this, I think.”
A second later, Tirza was in a modest home in Michigan. Simple red and blue upholstered chairs sat in the living room, a sofa of deep red sitting along one wall. The lamps that lit the room were gold with cream-colored shades.
She noted the Christmas tree that was tucked in a corner, decorated with many family ornaments. Several were porcelain orbs that held pictures of long gone pets. Others were ceramic. Others were simple gold, red, or green balls. Bright, multicolored lights twinkled on and off.
On handmade ornament was of multiple stockings clung to a fireplace mantle with a date of 1970 followed by the names Chuck, Connie, Lisa, Sandy.
Tirza wandered around the room, stopping at a display where a small babe was lying in a manager, surrounded by statues representing his mother and father. Other statues of an ox and a donkey, several sheep, and then shepherds and kings surrounded this tiny child’s makeshift bed.
The Nativity. A beautiful rending. Not anything like the real one, but close . . .
Tirza spent some time remembering a baby’s birth long ago.
As a Newbie, Tirza was assigned to be present during great moments of Joy. Although the world could present challenges to its human inhabitants, some moments were so wonderful, meant to be announced to all.
Tirza materialized in a bitterly cold, old barn, straw everywhere, the stench of animal dung and urine heavy in the air. As the night grew longer, the barn became colder, the animals munching on the extra feed that the farmer had given them.
A very pregnant woman entered, her husband pulling along the tired donkey.
“There’s no place for us to rest,” he said to his wife. “Perhaps I can make a bed out of this straw.”
“Quickly, husband,” the young woman whispered. “My pains are great, and it will not be long before the babe arrives.”
He bunched up hay as high as he could for his wife. With his help, she laid down then said, “Tend to our donkey, Joseph.” Hastily, the man threw hay in a rough trough, allowing the donkey to feed.
Mary knew of childbirth, had helped the woman in her tribe when it was their time to deliver. However, she’d never been alone with a birthing woman. She’d also never given birth. But the Creator had sent word through an angel, a lovely blond angel, that she was to be the Mother of God. Knowing that she would need to trust in His help during her deliverance, she settled back and allowed the birth to happen.
Tirza watched in amazement. A young angel, she had never been present at a birth. She knew nothing about human deliveries, other than what others told her about there being pain and that it could take some time. Although the Director had told her that this was a special birth, she was not completely clear whose birth it would be. Until she heard Mary’s thoughts about being notified that she was to be the Mother of God.
Elated with the idea of being the angel to announce the birth of Jesus, Tirza created a quick plan to help this young woman with her birth. She blew air into the balled-up hay, making it softer than usual. She willed the air in the barn to warm, surprised that by the strength of will, she could create such change. Then she placed herself at Mary’s head and began whispering encouraging words into the laboring woman’s ear.
Joseph continued working with the donkey, trying to ignore his wife’s low moans or sharp breaths. A carpenter, he had never been at a birth, not even an animal’s birth. His mother and aunts had ushered all men out of their hovel whenever a woman went into labor. It was hours or days later when a female would appear to announce the birth of a son or daughter.
After the donkey fed, Joseph began brushing an animal who would be gleaming and clean when the night was done. When the animal laid down, preventing any further care, Joseph looked at the manager, noting that it needed some repair. His tools were in a knapsack he’d removed from the donkey’s side. Within minutes, he’d fixed the feeding manager and cleaned it out.
All that time, Mary labored as quietly as she could. Mercifully, the labor was quick, the birth easy. Tirza’s pleas to her Director for less pain and a calm birth were answered. Mary grabbed the babe from between her legs and took her headscarf, placing it around him. It was raggedy, but it worked in swaddling her infant. A few minutes later, she called to her husband, “The child is here!”
He came to her, kneeling before the infant that was to be in his care. Others had questioned an older man marrying a young, pregnant girl, but he’d been told to not be afraid, to take her as his wife. His faith was great. He would love this baby unconditionally, as if he were his own son.
Tirza watched the threesome in the straw. Their faces were soft, their heads surrounded by halos that came from moonlight gleaming through the one lone window behind them. Both looked down on the quiet baby, marveling at what had taken place in an old barn. Both were smiling, Mary’s tears were those of joy.
Suddenly Tirza could not contain herself. She shot up into the air, calling out, ““Gloria in excelsis Deo!”
Her light grew brilliantly white, casting out in all directions, sending out a sign to others that the most joyful thing that could ever happen, had occurred. Soon many angels joined her, elated that God’s son had been born. Their lights added to Tirza’s brilliance, casting light out even further, making night time almost daylit.
“We should sing!” one angel called out.
Another angel, gifted with a beautiful voice, started the glorious praising. Repeating Tirza’s announcement, the angels sang “Gloria in Excelsis Deo!” repeatedly. Without any teaching, they all knew their harmonization roles. Tirza looked down, noticed some shepherds who were pausing, looking up into the sky at their lights.
“What do they see?” she asked an older angel when the first song ended.
“They see us, young one,” the older one acknowledged. “Our beauty is breathtaking when we are joyful.”
The shepherds continued gazing, one taking a small lamb up onto his shoulders as he gazed. Another who’d used his shepherd’s hook to herd the animals, now leaned on his post, gazing up at the lights as well.
Tirza needed to share the joy with them. As her sisters and brothers continued with their happy singing, she floated back down toward the shepherds, providing the bright light they needed to see their way to the barn.
Inside the structure, Mary had laid her baby in Joseph’s repaired manager after he’d placed clean hay in it. She knelt beside her son, stroking the infant tenderly. The donkey had not moved from its place near the trough, but acted interested in the new addition. A cow had wandered out of its stall, and settled on the other side of Joseph who was kneeling near his wife.
Tirza floated up to the roof of the old structure, knowing that Mary and Joseph would not see her, their eyes glued to the infant. As soon as Tirza was at the top of the barn, the two shepherds came in a single sheep following. One shepherd got to the ground, placing his hook aside, holding his hands’ palms up towards the child in adoration. The ewe wandered to the infant, sniffed him, but did not munch on the hay. The other shepherd continued holding the lamb, gazing down at the child. Everyone was smiling. Joy was everywhere.
The kings . . .
A doorbell interrupted Tirza’s ancient memory. Sandy ran into the room, calling, “Coming!”
Fed Ex delivered a package. Sandy ripped it open and pulled out a small box wrapped in brown Kraft paper. Shawn had drawn a picture of himself, shaking his finger at his mother, a conversation bubble drawn, wrapped around the words “Do not open until given permission.”
As she usually did with presents, Sandy shook the box.
No rattle. What’s this kid sent me now?
Tirza was curious, too. Sandy seemed happy, confident, and pleased that her son had thought to send her a gift. It didn’t appear to Tirza that anything was extremely joyful, or that Sandy needed any kind of help. Just then Sandy’s phone Skype alarm went off. Racing into her kitchen to answer, she hit the video button and was rewarded with the sight of Shawn and his wife Amy.
“Well, this is lucky,” Sandy said. “I just got your package.”
“Did you open it?” Amy asked.
“Just the Fed Ex envelope. It seems my son doesn’t want me to tamper with a present before Christmas.”
Shawn smiled. “Go ahead, mom. Open it up.”
“Really?” When Shawn nodded, Sandy said, “Well, I want to be careful. I haven’t gotten a Shawn drawing since he was little.”
Sticking her finger beneath the tape, Sandy began to wonder what this could be. Why did she have to open it in front of them? Why weren’t they waiting until they came out on Christmas Day?
Suspicious, Sandy’s mind started to run through what it could be.
Could they be . . .
Five years prior, Shawn and Amy announced that they were going to start a family. Although Sandy thought it was odd to make an announcement concerning their family, she bit her tongue and bided her time. But as the years went by, it became obvious that the couple was having trouble conceiving.
Connie, Shawn’s grandmother, was particularly harsh about the lack of great-grandchildren.
“I thought for sure, when we stopped at that small baby shop in Ada, that there was going to be an announcement soon. What’s happening?” she demanded one evening when Sandy was visiting.
“Mom, you know I can’t ask them questions about baby-making.”
Connie was not impressed. “I’m the only one in my card group who doesn’t have a great-grandchild. And I’m the oldest! I want to have great-grandchildren before I die. I’m ready.”
A baby was not born before Connie’s passing that past June.
After more time passed, Sandy went with her son and daughter-in-law to a quaint small-town Festival of Arts. Shawn went off to get a craft beer while Sandy and Amy wandered in an out of little boutiques. The first, a baby shop, was quickly looked over, then exited. Sandy sensed Amy’s growing dismay even before they got to the door.
What do I say? How can I even ask about this? I’m not her mother.
Then they wandered into a quilting store. Sandy had done some quilting, but decided that she’d rather enjoy quilts than make them. Still, bolts of brightly colored fabrics always teased her creativity.
Wandering through the small rooms of the shop, neither woman considered what the next room’s theme might be until they walked into a room of fabric intended for a baby’s room.
Artful displays of pink and blue quilts, of stuffed animals, of personalized baptismal gowns, of all the little accessories that could go with making baby quilts, was everywhere. As they wandered throughout the room, both women touched something sweet and said a word of praise, but both felt sorrow.
Sandy heard a small sob from Amy.
Not particularly a nurturer, it was difficult for Sandy to place her arms around Amy. Still, she found herself trying to comfort the younger woman.
“It must be hard for you to see that,” she choked out, her own emotions right on the edge of spilling into tears.
Amy pushed back from the embrace, averting her eyes from her mother-in-law’s gaze.
“Yeah. We keep trying, but . . .”
Later when she was alone with Shawn, Sandy told him about the store, asking how he was doing.
“It’s harder on Amy than it is on me,” he admitted as he drove her back to her home. “We go to our friends’ parties and they all have kids – two or three kids by now! All they talk about are their kids! I try to direct the conversation to something else – politics, or sports usually – but it always goes back to kids. It’s really hard on Amy.”
Sandy could tell that it was hard on Shawn, too. She was going to say something when he interrupted her thoughts.
“And then, the friends that are bold enough say things like “Why don’t you adopt?”
“Well, would you?”
“Mom, Amy’s not giving up! She’s a fighter. This is something she has always wanted – motherhood.” He shrugged at it all, then added, “If we have to, we’ll do IVF. But we really want this child to come on its own.”
Two more years went on until Sandy found herself not even thinking of the chance for grandchildren. She passed by baby stores whenever she encountered them, praised her friends’ pictures of their own grandchildren, and tried to focus on the fact that Amy and Shawn had a good relationship despite their struggles with infertility. Although the little brown box teased her with the idea of a baby announcement, Sandy fought back the hope.
No, they’ve been trying for such a long time. I don’t want to even go there and be disappointed again.
The paper slipped off easily.
“Open the box, Mom.” Shawn’s instructional tone might have held a bit of humor.
Sandy removed the lid, then the soft cotton that covered whatever was inside. As she viewed the glittering silver star ornament, Sandy sucked in a tight breath, then began screeching with joy.
Soon to be Grandma in May 2017.
Continuing her exclamations of joy, Sandy held the star by its blue ribbon and showed it to the camera. She noticed that Amy was wiping tears out of her eyes; Shawn was grinning so large that it was surely going to hurt his cheeks.
“When?” Sandy breathless asked.
“Mom!” Shawn was laughing now. “It says May.”
. . .